


Havelock's Beginning

by Chaosinorder



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:28:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaosinorder/pseuds/Chaosinorder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief depiction of an event early on in Havelock Vetinari's life which shaped him forever; no basis in fact from the books.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Havelock's Beginning

Havelock was awoken that night by the familiar sound of his parents arguing somewhere in the house, or more accurately his father shouting at his mother; normally this would only have woken him but tonight something was different and caused him to leave his room in search of the origin of the sounds.

Soon the eight year old was treading on silent feet through the large manor house, adjusting his direction when necessary, though it wasn’t often; eventually he reached the room where all the shouting was coming from, and gently opened the door a crack.

Inside he could see his mother, perched on the bed, crying softly; his father was not visible but was certainly audible.

“How dare you woman; you embarrassed me in front of the entire city. I’ll be surprised if any of the others even look at us again, let alone talk to us again. All because you were tired, and wanted to come home.” As Lord Vetinari spoke, he moved forward to close the distance between himself and his wife and suddenly backhanded the weeping woman, hard enough to make her fall back, senseless.

“Lords Selachii and Venturi even _spoke_ to each other when you caused that scene; Lord Rust will certainly never wish our company again. I’m damn certain now that I shouldn’t have let you speak, let alone come at all, you useless whore.” Again the rampage was punctuated by the resounding noise of Lord Vetinari beating his wife.

The tirade continued for another few minutes, interspersed by hits as it was; and all the while Havelock just stood at the door and watched quietly. Eventually the words faltered entirely, though the beating continued, more vicious than before; it was savage, animalistic and unceasing.

After a time Lord Vetinari ceased the beating and told his wife to get up; when she didn’t he began to shout again, before falling silent very suddenly. He rushed to his wife and began to shake her, yelling at her to wake up, though she didn’t; she couldn’t.

It was then that Havelock knew what happened, and stole away, once again on silent feet before returning soon after to find his father attempting to cover the body.

“What happened father?” The boy asked, spooking his father and causing him to turn and rush towards him.

“What did you see? Well? Tell me you worthless little shit. Tell me; what did you see?” His father grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him ferociously, not noticing the steely glint in the boy’s hand and eye.

“I saw a solution to the problem, father.”

“A solution? What sort of stupid answer is that?” The man stretched his hand back, ready to backhand the child, but before he could start the swing he felt something punch against his chest. As he looked down he saw what Havelock had kept concealed in his hand, the item he’d stolen away to get; a knife. It wasn’t the weapon of an assassin or something ornamental, it was merely a kitchen knife, but it did the job it was required for.

As his father’s life oozed from the wound left by the knife Havelock moved over to the body of his mother and lay next to her, the last time he would ever be able to hold her as only a son can hold a mother.

It wasn’t until the next day, when the butler came to wake the late Lord and Lady Vetinari that the scene was discovered, and in the middle of it was Havelock, the new Lord Vetinari; he wasn’t crying, or sobbing, he was just sat there stoically, watching his mother and ignoring the body of a man who deserved no grief or love. The butler sent for Havelock’s aunt who, despite the extreme distance, arrived before nightfall; by this time the watch had investigated, decided it was an attempt in the last moments of Lady Vetinari’s life to stop her husband, an attempt which succeeded.

Lady Roberta immediately found her nephew sitting alone and silent in the library of the house, staring at the floor with enough intensity that it would have run from the gaze if possible. She sat down next to the youth and enveloped him in her arms, holding him close.

“I had to do it.” Havelock whispered after a while, his heart near destroyed.

“I know; your mother was a good woman and never deserved to be burdened with a man like your father. You did the right thing Havelock,” she paused for a moment before continuing, “but it cannot be done again, at least never this way, never without rules or reason. Starting next month you’ll be enrolled into the Assassin’s Guild school, and until then you’ll stay with me, understand?”

Havelock looked up at his aunt and gave her a weak smile, one that only a person under such heartbreak can give someone showing them such love.

“I understand. Can I ask a question?”

“Besides that one I take it?” His aunt answered with a sidelong look.

“Besides that one; why did he do it?”

“Oh Havelock, he took your mother for granted, and placed importance in things that didn’t matter.”

A knock permeated the moment, and Vetinari was drawn back to the present, and was aware of Drumknott stood by the door.

“Yes Drumknott?”

“Lady Roberta Meserole to see you my Lord.”

Vetinari nodded once and Drumknott opened the door for the patrician’s aunt before leaving and closing the door behind him.

Vetinari stood and greeted his aunt with a weak smile; she just looked at him for a moment before asking,

“That night again?”

Vetinari nodded.

“I’ve told you Havelock, you did nothing wrong that night. You need to stop punishing yourself; sometimes I think you only became patrician of this city as some form of penance.”

“Perhaps; though I do often wonder why.” The patrician muttered distantly.

“You know why; you know the reason your father died that night. I know you don’t like thinking about it but your father died because he didn’t take the things that were truly important seriously.”

Lady Roberta sat on the bench in her nephew’s office and beckoned him over; when he sat down she enveloped him once again as she had done so long ago, and still felt the pain radiating from the man beside her, and once again saw the devastated young boy she had seen all those years ago.


End file.
